


with my palm (take the world)

by retts



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Reveal, Uther is ill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retts/pseuds/retts
Summary: Perhaps Arthur felt it too, because he held Merlin long after they were satiated, pressing their bodies close and clutching at Merlin’s hand, and let the actions speak for him. And Merlin wanted to tell him – every lie, every deceit, every secret – during those quiet moments when Arthur trusted him enough to show the extent of his mourning, and fear, and affection. But it felt wrong to complicate the delicate thing between them and swallowed back the words, letting Arthur wait once more.(originally written on 30/08/2010)





	with my palm (take the world)

**Author's Note:**

> originally written 2010! ah, so long ago! posted in lj for the merlinxarthur fanfic challenge :)
> 
> unedited from the original post

  
i.  
  
It was during one of Camelot’s worst winters when Uther fell ill. The weather was bitterly cold and the castle had fallen silent, as if everyone in the kingdom was holding vigil for their King.   
  
Merlin hadn’t been allowed in Uther’s chambers and he waited in Arthur’s rooms instead, stoking the fire and keeping his dinner warm after a single glance. The hearth was blazing so fiercely that every corner of the room was warm but still Merlin shivered. The sudden collapse of the King had stunned everyone, forcing an abrupt end to the feast. It was frightening to think of what would happen if Uther – Merlin didn’t dare, because he knew exactly what.   
  
The door nudged open and Arthur came in. Merlin stood and observed him, the rigid hold of his shoulders and shuttered expression, and let out a quiet breath. Merlin moved closer and reached out a careful hand as if to a threatening animal, and started undressing Arthur. He removed the gold circlet on Arthur’s head, fingers ghosting over the blond hair. Merlin undid the lacings on Arthur’s sides and then gently tugged off the silk shirt, dropping it in a careless pile on the floor.   
  
Arthur’s eyes were distant, looking like fragile glass, and Merlin touched a collarbone in comfort. He took off Arthur’s belt and peeled away his breeches and the other man followed the motions automatically, barely blinking when they joined the messy pile.   
  
Merlin ran his palms up Arthur’s dangling arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. He pressed his nose into Arthur’s hair, breathing once, and then quietly embraced him. “Arthur,” he said and kissed behind his ear. He felt a shudder go through Arthur, and then another, and Arthur gave a sharper jerk as if he was trying to contain the movements. Merlin kissed his way down Arthur’s neck, placing light, open-mouthed touches across the line of one shoulder. Arthur’s hands remained at his sides.   
  
The little jarring motions continued and Merlin placed intent in his touches, sinking his fingers into Arthur’s back, lewdly sucking on his Adam’s apple. Arthur was hard against Merlin’s clothed thigh and he made a soft, tortured sound; he gripped Merlin’s arm.   
  
“Merlin,” was all Arthur said in a tight, brittle voice and he didn’t need to say anything else. His eyes were now brimming with telling emotion, a grief so potent he was nearly unbuckling from it, and Merlin tried his best to keep him upright. He fucked Arthur fast and hard, trying to wipe away every last thought, every other feeling except for pleasure, plain and uncomplicated, and their hands tangled around the beddings and trembled from more than desire.   
  
  
ii.   
  
At first, Arthur was angry. He shouted, he cursed, and he blamed everyone and everything. He pushed Merlin away every time he attempted to offer solace. He battled his knights fiercely until they were all left bruised and defeated under Arthur’s anguish.   
  
Then the rage burnt itself out, leaving numbness behind. Arthur retreated into himself, refusing any attempts to talk, burying under his new responsibilities. Still, he denied Merlin.   
  
And one night, when Arthur arrived in his chambers after a demanding day and found Merlin waiting for him, he felt the anger swell over. He angrily took off his shirt and threw it on the floor, eyes glinting. “Why are you still here? I told you to leave when you finished your duties! Can’t you ever do as you are told, Merlin?”   
  
Merlin looked at him calmly. “You did, sire, but you still need me.”   
  
Arthur seemed to puff up in fury, blustering at Merlin’s gall; his hands clenched and his whole body coiled tightly as a spring –Merlin saw the moment the grief poured out from the cracks and went to hold him even as Arthur continued to struggle, cursing him, fingers twisting desperately on the back of Merlin’s shirt.   
  
  
iii.   
  
The Dragon was being helpful, for once, but Merlin wished the creature would say something maddeningly cryptic if it meant telling a different story.   
  
“There is no escaping destiny, young warlock, because it is here. Uther will not live past this winter.”   
  
“How do you know that?” Merlin shouted angrily. He had no love for Uther but Arthur – “What if he will get better? Surely there’s a way! If you can see his death, then you must know a way to cure him!”   
  
“Do not presume that I want Uther Pendragon to  _live_ ,” said the Dragon and the creature spread its wings, leaning closer to Merlin. “Do not try to run away, Merlin. You and Arthur will need each other in order to succeed – you will need that which makes you whole.”   
  
  
iv.   
  
Gaius spent most of his time in the King’s chambers and Merlin knew better than to ask; the dark shadows under the physician’s eyes and his frequent absence told enough about Uther’s health.   
  
With the King in his bed – his deathbed, a few brave souls whispered – it was left to Arthur to oversee matters of the kingdom. He spent long hours holding council, meeting with envoys, reading and writing documents, settling conflict, and still he trained with his knights and went on patrols, before returning to the castle for more meetings, letters, and worrying about his father. Arthur was exhausted by the time he retired for the night, crawling into bed and falling into fitful sleep.   
  
Merlin watched over him as he slept, lightly tracing the frown still on Arthur’s lips even as he slumbered, and missed the smiles, smirks, and the hundred other ways Arthur’s mouth expressed his moods.   
  
Merlin tried his best to ease some of Arthur’s burden: he woke up earlier to give Arthur a longer breakfast; he made certain Arthur had a hot bath every morning; he cleaned Arthur’s armour and weapons diligently; he snuck in snacks of sweet fruits and bread during council meetings; he tidied up Arthur’s room until it was spotless; he kept Arthur distracted during the rare times when he had nothing to do, joking and mocking and gossiping as if it was any other day; he fucked Arthur, or let Arthur fuck him, until they were both spent and panting.   
  
Merlin became the sort of manservant Arthur despaired he would never be and it was bloody exhausting, but Merlin didn’t care. He was being selfish too, doing these things because he feared that when the time came, sooner than anyone expected, it would all change. Somehow, it would.   
  
Perhaps Arthur felt it too, because he held Merlin long after they were satiated, pressing their bodies close and clutching at Merlin’s hand, and let the actions speak for him. And Merlin wanted to tell him – every lie, every deceit, every secret – during those quiet moments when Arthur trusted him enough to show the extent of his mourning, and fear, and affection. But it felt wrong to complicate the delicate thing between them and swallowed back the words, letting Arthur wait once more.   
  
  
v.   
  
Morgana’s face was drawn as she stared out the window, sitting with her hands clasped on her lap. Gwen sat on her chair by the bed, subdued and worried, and Merlin squeezed her shoulder in shared comfort. Gwen mustered a tremulous smile and Merlin smiled in return. He handed her the blue vial Gaius had told him to deliver to Morgana, her sleeping draught.  
  
“Has Arthur told you?” Morgana asked without taking her eyes away from the courtyard, where people went on hurriedly with their lives. “That Uther is dying?”   
  
Merlin grimaced. “Yes.”   
  
Morgana gave a mirthless smile. “I thought that I had nothing left but anger for him, the way he has nothing else left in his life. But when I see him, weak and wasting and everything he is not, I feel pity. I never imagined his life would be snatched away so easily and quickly, but Uther is only a man, after all. An angry, hateful man but still – he let me call Camelot as my home.”   
  
Gwen made a soft sound of sorrow and Merlin said nothing. It broke his heart to see Morgana this way. He was saddened that Uther would never see the man his son was becoming and Arthur would forever, in some way, seek the approval of his father long after Uther’s death.   
  
Finally, Morgana turned away from the window and met Merlin’s eyes. “Arthur came to see me this morning,” she said in a steady voice and her expression was as inscrutable as ever. “He asked me what I dream of every night and I told him."   
  
Merlin started and he looked at Morgana helplessly.   
  
“He is going to be a magnificent King,” Morgana said sincerely and Merlin wished Arthur could hear her; he would never believe it. Then, in a kinder tone, “He has never told on either of us, Merlin. It’s time we repay his faith.”   
  
  
vi.   
  
The lake looked the same as ever, a calm stretch of water under the bright morning light. Arthur, who had become more relaxed as they journeyed on, glanced at Merlin with a questioning quirk of his brow. Merlin smiled and said, “I’ve a present for you,” and jumped off his horse. He began undressing himself, taking care to neatly fold his clothes, and Arthur snorted above him.   
  
“You’re rather simple,” Arthur said in a tone that wondered why he even kept Merlin’s company at all.   
  
Merlin beamed at him – inside, he was quaking in quiet fear. “That’s not the gift, sire, although it would be a pleasant addition. It’s – in the lake, actually.”   
  
Arthur eyed him for a moment and then sighed, as if Merlin was a great burden on his princely shoulders. “Go on, then, catch me some fish. A bloody awful present, if you could call it that.”   
  
When Merlin was naked and Arthur had snarked appropriately, he made his way to the lake. The water was cold, lapping at his ankles and then higher, until Merlin took a deep breath and dove underwater. He didn’t need to do this – wading into the water when he could have summoned the sword with a glance – but something in him wanted to be redundant and reckless and grand, like this mad destiny he shared with Arthur. So naked and stupid was the course and Merlin thought that the Dragon would be proud.   
  
He called the sword to him, that special weapon that felt like Arthur at his bravest, and Merlin’s fingers curled around the hilt of Excalibur. He raised the blade out of the water and then followed, dripping and out of breath, and saw Arthur’s astonishment.   
  
Merlin wheezed, exhilarated and anxious.  
  
He swam back to shore and knelt in front of Arthur as he handed the sword. Arthur took it without hesitation and gasped softly. He stepped back and did a few moves – parry, thrust, swipe, stab, and god, looking so glorious – and his expression was one of open joy. It made Merlin ache because he’d missed that look, knowing it will be a long time before Arthur looked that way again. Merlin soaked in the moment, eyes trained on Arthur’s eyes, lips, grin.   
  
“This is – ” Arthur shook his head and turned to Merlin. “It feels perfect, as if it’s a part of me. This is your work – ” and it was the first, explicit acknowledgment of what Merlin was between them.   
  
Merlin nodded, face upturned. His skin had dried and was growing bumps from the chill. “I made it that way for you,” he answered simply. “Years ago, but it wasn’t the right time for you to have it.”   
  
“Merlin – ”  
  
“I’ve never told you,” Merlin said abruptly, eyes wide but steady on Arthur, and the light made it look as if he was wearing the most brilliant crown. Merlin swallowed and ignored the frantic throbbing of his heart, the instinctive reaction to lie and hide. Instead, he said, “Not even when you figured it out by yourself, and kept quiet, and defied your father repeatedly for my sake. I was – I was afraid and pretended you didn’t know. I was cowardly and lied to you for a long time, even when you already knew – even when I made you lie to your father in return. For that, I ask your forgiveness. It’s not nearly enough and I – I swear that I will make it up to you.” He blinked and licked his lips, wanting to look away but forcing himself to meet Arthur’s unreadable gaze. “You’re – I know that you think you’re not ready, and your father is – but. But I know you will be a great King, Arthur, the greatest. It’s – It’s your destiny.”   
  
Merlin huffed out a soft, belittling laugh – he’d just quoted the Dragon – and his gaze finally slid away and down, staring at the earth under his palms. He felt it thrumming with life and magic, tied to the Old Religion, to him, and this man before him.   
  
For a long while, Arthur didn’t say anything. Merlin’s chest clenched and,  _bollocks, I’ve ruined it all with my stupid mushy speech and I’m still naked, a clean slate if you will, very clever metaphor but probably lost on Arthur, oh god_ , he was thinking a little hysterically until Arthur gently laid Excalibur on the ground and went to his knees.   
  
“You are the biggest idiot I have ever met. Completely and utterly mad, insubordinate, useless, a sorcerer, and so, so, so – ” Arthur spoke and his tone was rough, and when Merlin looked at him, affronted despite himself, he saw that Arthur’s eyes were raw. Merlin’s breath caught. “If I had cared, if I hadn’t cared too much,” Arthur told him and gripped Merlin’s shoulders tightly, pulling him closer, “if you hadn’t come to Camelot, if you had to leave, if you hadn’t been so spectacularly bad at being my servant – ”  
  
“Arthur,” said Merlin thickly and kissed him. He probably tasted like mud and water but Arthur swept his tongue over and inside his mouth, hands mapping Merlin in broad, possessive strokes that made Merlin kiss harder, heart playing a crazy staccato in his breast. Merlin closed his eyes and reveled in the touch, sweep, feel of Arthur.   
  
He was pushed to the ground, laid completely bare and honest, humbled by the sensation of Arthur moving wildly inside of him, and Merlin threw his head back and said Arthur’s name over and over, like a spell he’s had to learn fast and desperate and integral. Arthur’s face was beautiful, twisted almost in pain, and Merlin understood and grasped his arms, offering balance even as he leaned into him, taking Arthur’s mouth and tasting berries, warmth, and something ridiculous like destiny.   
  
  
vii.   
  
“I cannot believe you created this beauty.” Arthur looked at him sceptically, “ _You_ , Merlin.”   
  
Merlin rolled his eyes and reached for the sword that Arthur was holding in front of him, admiring its gleaming blade (or perhaps staring at his own reflection, if he knew Arthur at all). “If you can’t, then I can easily take it back – ”  
  
Merlin’s heart, though, was lighter than it had been for a long, long time.   
  
“It’s very lovely craftsmanship,” Arthur told him with a smirk. “I’m certain blacksmiths all over Albion will give away their firstborn for the secret.”   
  
Merlin grumbled, feeling ludicrously bold and happy, “I’ll start with: first, have an illegal power, find a prat prince to serve, and make it for him to help conquer kingdoms even if he is still a big  _prat_.”   
  
Arthur shot him an amused glance and hummed thoughtfully. “Conquer kingdoms, you say?”   
  
They were nearing Camelot and Merlin could see the grand shape of the castle. “If you want,” Merlin said casually, waving a hand. “Everything, anything.”   
  
Arthur’s gaze had gone distant and he tightened his grip on the reigns. “When I’m King.”   
  
“When you’re King,” Merlin repeated. The thought made him a little dizzy and he wondered what if felt like for Arthur, if it was so different from when Merlin used his magic and felt, knew, that there was almost no limit – wonderful and terrible and a great, great burden all at once.   
  
“When I’m King,” Arthur agreed – to everything, anything, and Merlin’s pulse fluttered because he knew, at that moment as Arthur’s smile warmed him through, that they were going to be perfect,  _brilliant_  – and it wasn’t difficult to imagine him as King already, riding on his horse and golden against the sun, Merlin right next to him on the road. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and please be kind to yourself and others :)


End file.
